AGB Cricket

OLD IDEA

The December 31, 1977 New Idea contains a cornucopia of treats: Lynda Stoner on the front cover; summer shawls to knit and crochet; Europe's royal families; a condensed book by Rod McKuen called "Search for My Father"; Mrs J. Hawkins of Tocumwal announces that "my first-prize winning recipe for bonny iced plum pudding is on the Bonlac pack" (putting on my Melbourne Grammar alumni hat, I reckon she is Tom Hawkins' grand mother); and Don Lane makes a point to Peter Russell-Clarke - "Where's the f****n cheese, ya c**t?"

With the benefit of hindsight, history and the unimpeachable provenance of "Howzat" we know what Dennis Lillee was up to in 1978. With the benefit of foresight, did DK's horoscope tick all boxes?

The coming year will bring Dennis a very busy but exceptionally successful year. He will advance through his own efforts and attain some extraordinary achievements. He will enjoy pleasant journeys, new and wonderful friendships and encounter odd but pleasant experiences associated with the sea or large institutions. It is likely that Dennis will exercise any literary or artistic skills he has and either write a book or start regularly contributing to a newspaper or magazine. There are indications of important changes to his domestic scene bringing very happy moments.

Arriving belatedly, fingers out of breath and struggling to remember why I started this post... Over twenty years later, 2002 to be precise, Stuart Robertson, the marketing manager of the ECB and avid devourer of 1970s Australian women's magazines, proposed a 20 over per innings game to the ECB. Stuart was, shall we say, nonchalant to overlook the undoubted inspiration for his inspiration: 20 Over Cricket "the best game available". Gideon Haigh now has a real goat to scape.

CHUG-A-PLUG

Have invented a drinking game for teetotallers: Waugh Is Hell. Every time Mark Waugh plugs a player who is not from NSW, you must scoll a beer.

KIWI UNDERARM STINKS

The Ball Blacks are now The Black Balls:

Lawn bowlers caught in match-fixing scandal

Lawn bowls is making headlines in New Zealand for all the wrong reasons - the country's best male lawn bowlers have been found guilty of match fixing.

Four New Zealand lawn bowlers denied they deliberately under-performed in a game against Thailand at the Asia Pacific bowls tournament in Malaysia last year.

But an investigation has found the players threw the match to get a more favourable quarter-final draw.

New Zealand once threw a Fifty/50 match against South Africa in Perth so that Australia would miss out on the Tri-Series finals. Sharp practice is endemic in New Zealand. Endemic, I tell you. Why do you think the All Blacks keep losing in the World Cup. Plague proportions.

THE G FOR GOOGLE

UNDEAD PITCH

Incisor Incisive texting with my brother during last night's England vs South Africa action:

RT: Smith. Dreadful decision. Least it's not us who sent England in.

TT: Edgbaston Has Risen From The Grave.

RT: Thought I saw Christopher Lee in the crowd.

TT: He sucked the life out of the pitch.

RT: Peter Cushing on the roller.

TT: Count Yorga on the mower.

FEATHERED FIENDS

County cricket: not for the feint hearted... pigeons.

The Spin headed for The Oval last week in anticipation of watching Mark
Ramprakash score his 100th hundred, but ended up instead watching a
vignette which ought to silence once and for all those who deny the
county game is a vicious world of dog-eat-dog. Or perhaps
pigeon-eat-pigeon. As Surrey's Matt Nicholson carved his way towards a
fourth first-class hundred, a ferocious cut shot headed towards a flock
of pigeons, minding their own business in the third-man region.
But one of the flying rats got unlucky: as her colleagues took flight in
the nick of time, she was hit by the ball, sending a flurry of feathers
into the air - a moment that was captured in its gory glory by the
photographer Graham Morris. But her ordeal had only just begun.

As the wounded bird lay rooted to the spot, a male colleague wandered
over, appraised the situation, and promptly took advantage of her
immobility in the most heinous manner imaginable. As the press box
erupted to cries of "they're animals!" another pigeon waddled over to
assess her mate's plight. Alas, she was to prove anything but the
cavalry: far from providing a rescue act, she began pecking at the
unfortunate creature's head, and it needed swift action from Rana Naved,
Yorkshire's Pakistan seamer, to wander over from fine leg and shoo away
the miscreants.

By this stage, the pigeon was on her back, feet in the air and looking
like she'd seen better days. Naved picked her up and carefully laid her
to rest beyond the boundary. Back in 1936, a sparrow was killed at
Lord's in a mid-air collision with a ball delivered by Jehangir Khan
during a game between MCC and Cambridge University. It was subsequently stuffed and mounted on the ball that killed it, and still has pride of place in the Lord's museum. Without wishing to make hackneyed
comparisons between life north and south of the river, the Spin suspects
the dead pigeon will not exactly get a state funeral along the
Harleyford Road.

Thanks, Andy.

YOUSE BOATS

When I think of wolf packs, I don't think of dogs, I think of German subs.

Anyway. Enough comedy.

What is missing from this article?

The American pitching to the converted

WHEN the Australian team was denounced for "hunting like a pack of wild dogs", fielding coach Mike Young turned to the players and said, "Well done."

Truth was, he had asked them to apply the "wolf pack" theory in the field, but wild dogs would do.

For a few summers now, Young's cries of "atta boy" have sounded loudly at Australian cricket training. The broad baseball phrasing is strangely out of place in this most sacred of national sports. It jars like a Muslim prayer in a Catholic cathedral.

Answer.

WHAT BLANKET?

Just ban booze:

Not a fan of shameful crowd behaviour

SHAMEFUL cricket crowds and pathetic security have delivered a embarrassing blot on Australia, which is kidding itself if it thinks it does not have a serious problem on its hands.

Crowds here are now the ugliest in the world, and that is no small statement considering some of the behaviour from fans at Indian grounds.

CHUCKY

How did I miss this? Well spotted, Rod.

KELLY'S HERO

BOLLOXXXX

"Groan. It's like watching Margot Fonteyn play Twister."

Boynton, after stumbling upon the Beach Cricket on Ten. I wasn't nearly as charitable.

THE HAND THAT SIGNED THE TEAM SHEET

Years ago, 1987 to be precise, I was playing club cricket in Perth. It was the last game of the season and, batting first, we'd racked up about 300 when the skipper declared to give us half an hour at the opposition before stumps.

One thing, though. Why hadn't our best batsman batted? I asked the captain if Frank was injured, or something. He replied "no, we needed quick runs so I moved him down the order because he's a slow scorer," before rushing to add "he would have come in next." I never realised we needed quick runs, but I didn't think any more of it.

Until beers that night.

Turns out there were two guys in the running for that season's Batting Average Award: Frank and the skipper. Frank, despite clearly being the best batsman, had missed most of the season due to illness and was about 10 runs shy of qualifying for the batting average; he would have walked it with an average of about 60. The skipper, despite being barely OK with the bat, had taken every match to qualify with an average of about 30.

Thus, by moving Frank down the order, and well out of the way, the skipper had managed to win himself the Batting Average Award. I never bothered showing up the next Saturday.

THE CONCERT FOR BINGLADESH

Relegating the video to a mere comment didn't seem to do it the justice it deserved.

A BIG COLD JEER

~~ "The cricket's on the television."

Did last night's presentations make you cringe? They did me. The VB spokesman (Geoff, was it?) turned things into a promo for Talking Boonie, employing some dubious comedy stylings in the process. "It's time to put Little Boonie to sleep," he nighty-nighted. "We won't hear Little Boonie again until next summer." What the fuck! Did he think he was talking to slow-learners? I don't mind the sponsor mentioning their product, but fair dinkum, there are limits.

~~ "He's seeing 'em like watermelons."

Speaking of watermelons, what's up with Tony Grieg's nose? Very W.C. Fields. I hadn't noticed before, but is the big Yarpie a pisshead?

~~ "The word for today is thirsty. Better grab a beer"

Yes, beer. Best you click on Little Boonie to find out why Big Boonie isn't happy with beer. Would you like a spoon with that?

By the way. Channel Nine regularly miss the first few overs after the dinner break - last night they missed nearly ten. Swine! To top that they are now often missing the first ball of an over, sometimes the first two. It's stupid to come back from a break and have the commentators talking about what happened on the first or second ball, blithely unaware(?) we didn't see it.

~~ "You're joking, aren't ya?"

EASE UP, MOTHER BROWN

Is it right that when English sport's fans sing a song it's always My Old Man's a Dustman with different words?

Martin McCague has a noggin
In it he has much crap
And when he runs in to bowl
He says 'draw me a map'

Sure seems that way, but there are others. Row, Row, Row Your Boat gets a run, as does The Hokey Kokey, among other ... err ... timeless refrains. But no matter what you think of them, the point is - they're singable. (The "Barmy Army ... Barmy Army" chant is strangely hypnotic.)

What about our selection? Well, you already know where I'm going, don't you. The hideous Aussie Three Times is just about our lot, coupled with the Mexican Wave. No sane person participates in this nonsense. Whereas the bath-dodgers' chanting points to a bunch of pissed accountants on holiday having a laugh. Our one song screams "Flee! Bogans!" It's tragic.

Then there's Jerusalem. Spine tingling, right. But what do WE get? If the powers that be (marketers) had final say it would be Hey, True Blue by John Williamson, PA*. Jerusalem versus HTB - not much of a contest, is it.

We don't even have a worthwhile maybe. I'd pick Dave Warner's Half Time at the Football, but apart from the fact virtually no one's heard the song, it's just a little bit blue. Khe Sanh could probably be beaten into shape. I'm not holding my breath. This morning on the wireless, fatheads rung in suggesting songs. Downunder said one caller. Whoopee-not. Another proposed a spastic version of Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again. "Bravo, that's great," oozed the radiohead. "I hate a sunburnt country," sighed at least one listener.

* Professional Australian.

ZULUS?

Aye. We got belted.

Men of Harlech stop your dreaming
Can't you see their spear points gleaming
See their warrior's pennants streaming
To this battle field

-- Dunno

As it happens, we're not talking Stanley Baker; rock solid at the ramparts. Nor Michael Caine -- "Now THERE'S a bitter pill." -- and his dead cheetahs. Or even Jack Hawkins off the wagon on the wagon. Although, that last may be appropriate.

No, we're talking England getting spanked by Sarth Efrica in the cricket last week. Specifically The Barmy Army. I was wondering if, since Men of Harlech is the song sung by the soldiers in Zulu, whether drunken cricket fans singing it in Cape Town was a touch provocative. You know, not quite the done thing. Old chap.

PS: It's also my school football song:

Play together dark blue twenty